


Red is the Color of Remembrance

by kaiiton



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Gore, Canonical Character Death, For a Friend, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt Shiro (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers, he throws up blood, they get together in the end!!, tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 14:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17102141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiiton/pseuds/kaiiton
Summary: "He was gone. He was never coming back. So this was what Shiro deserved. He deserved to suffer, deserved endless pain that made his lungs seem to flood with water, stealing his breath and voice like Hera stole Echo’s. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight against the way that feeling built up, his insides growing to match his outsides, and the thorns only sprouted more vigorously, the more he found himself missing Him. It hurt more that the thorns were His color. The color of His aura as it sparkled and gleamed, a strong energy that lit up the room like the thousand string lights that had lit up their first night together."A fic in which Shiro develops Hanahaki disease after the death of Adam.





	Red is the Color of Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> hello guys! it's ya boy again. so yes! i wrote something angsty, specially for my friend mikayla who has been such a great buddy of mine for years. we love sheith boys. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING. if you are triggered easily, or have specific triggers, please check the tags for any that may hurt you!!!! if i missed any please tell me :') 
> 
> enjoy!

Green, and red. That’s all he could see as he laid awake in bed, alone, contemplating, unable to see more than a foot in front of him. Green, and red. The green was that of the thorny stocks that crept up his arms, legs, sprouting directly out of old scars, painted on his tanned skin by a numbing weapon. The red was the splashes of blood pouring out of freshly reopened wounds, gushing out like the memories and nightmares that followed. He was alone, and all he had was the green and red. The jealousy and fear. Grief striking at his heart, reminding him every time he shifted of the way His stormy eyes had looked when they fought before he left, before he was scarred. He could remember every detail of His skin as he traced his fingers along his own torn up forearm, blood crusted over the tips of the thorny that dug into his slowly pumping veins. He could hear the sound of the others voice, once a sound like bells, and now more like canons, booming in his head and making his brain seem to swell, pressure against his temples and forehead. 

He deserved this. Salty tears mixed with blood as he raised his hands wearily to his face, the prickling thorns like daggers that had sliced his skin in battle. Stained red with the blood of many. He was gone. He was never coming back. So this was what Shiro deserved. He deserved to suffer, deserved endless pain that made his lungs seem to flood with water, stealing his breath and voice like Hera stole Echo’s. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t fight against the way that feeling built up, his insides growing to match his outsides, and the thorns only sprouted more vigorously, the more he found himself missing Him. It hurt more that the thorns were His color. The color of His aura as it sparkled and gleamed, a strong energy that lit up the room like the thousand string lights that had lit up their first night together.

Something bubbled up in his throat, and he quickly got up, ignoring the pain coursing through his body as he ran to the bathroom as fast as he could. He barely made it out of his room before he stumbled and fell to his knees, coughing as he gagged up a few drops of blood, then a green flower, and another, the taste of metal going stronger as his head spun. They had reached his lungs. Shiro was going to die. 

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, a gasp sounding from the air behind him. The person dropped to their knees beside him, and gently shifted a hand to his back. “It’s gotten worse,” The voice spoke, which Shiro recognized to be Keith’s. “Oh my god, Shiro, you look horrible,” He whispered fearfully, and Shiro looked up to see a look of pain shining on the others face as he studied him. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed a tear slip from his fellow paladins eye, another following a moment later. “L-let’s get you cleaned up. We can try to snip some of these off.” Keith said gently, helping the other to his feet. He winced as the others thorns sliced him some, but said nothing, simply gritting his teeth and helping him towards the bathroom.

Shiro felt terrible, but he stayed silent as well, even as Keith began the grueling process of trying to snip the thorn-covered plants so they weren’t as harmful. He felt wetness on a cheek, thinking for a moment that he had sprouted another up there, but when he reached up to brush it away it was just a drop of a tear, turned faintly green by the thing that was killing him. He was crying. A sob built in his throat, and he finally gained the courage to speak: “Keith,” He began, his voice ragged and hoarse, barely able to talk now. “I-I’m sorry,” He finished, ducking his head once again. Keith looked at him, blinking back tears himself. 

“Why are you apologizing, Shiro?” The other man asked, furrowing his brow slightly. When Shiro shrugged, he sighed. “You shouldn’t be apologizing. You’re hurting. I’m going to be here for you, through thick and thin. You understand that? You’re…. You’re going to get better, Takashi. I’ll make sure of it.” It might have been a lie, or maybe it was something Keith truly believed. But at that very moment, Shiro knew that he needed to keep fighting. Adam would want him to move on. After all, Shiro’s love for him was what began this process, of slow deterioration. He let out a sob, and as soon as Keith was done, he wrapped the other in his arms, holding him tightly as he released all the waves of agony he possibly could through green droplets of water, flowing red blood ceasing to a trickle. 

They stayed like this for some time, Shiro sat in the tub where he had been placed to not dirty anything, and Keith eventually crawling in to sit beside him. They stayed silent, for neither had anything to say, truly. Words couldn’t describe how Shiro felt, regardless, and this was similar for Keith. They just sat, sat and cuddled and tried to forget that they were the dying man and the lovestruck boy.

~~~

Cold bathroom tiles eventually turned to warm blanket and fluffy pillows as Keith continued to comfort Shiro, the pair growing even closer than they ever had felt in their entire lives spent knowing each other. Soon, the tendrils of thorny plants began to drop from his wounds, allowing each to slowly begin to close. But not after they had begun sprouting vibrant red flowers, roses that filled the air around him with a sweet scent. They fell off one by one, petal by petal. He found he could breathe in the warming rosey air, enjoy being alive and not in constant pain, despite the fact that his wounds still dripped small leaves and petals from time to time. Keith was by his side at every second, and although they were oblivious thus far, the other paladins could tell exactly what had happened to break Shiro out of this trance. 

Red coursed through him, but taking on a new meaning now, with Keith standing by him through thick and thin, just as promised. Green remained within his heart, and his tears, whenever he cried he would find himself remembering that times could be worse. About two weeks after his last episode, Black and Red shared their first kiss, and it was clear to all then what had happened. Love filled their hearts, forced Shiro to smile once again. The mood of everyone was uplifted, and the spell of agony was broken, finally.

He was free. 

But Shiro would never forget. He knelt in front of a box pulled from under the bed now, lifting the cover slowly and carefully. A rose, still perfect and vibrant, sat in the center, and the older man smiled, feeling his fiance nuzzle against his side. He kissed the others head, wrapping an arm around him as he studied the rose. After a moment, he sighed in relief, and put the cover on the box, sliding it under the bed. 

“Have you forgotten?” Keith mumbled, looking at the other curiously as he would every time he posed this question, after two years. 

Shiro shook his head, chuckling softly. “Never. Just remembering.” He concluded, and pulled Keith in for a content kiss with no further spoken words. 

After all, there was so much to remember, but so much more to love.


End file.
